The Meal Before Lunch Society
by Flagg1991
Summary: Parody of The Breakfast Club. Sam, Luna, Maggie, Leni, and Jordan spend Saturday in detention...and things get wild. [Commission]
1. Chapter 1

_**Saturday, September 26, 1987. 9:31 am EST.**_

_This is totally bogus, _Sam Bender thought.

A tall, shapely girl with permed blonde hair and clad in jeans and an orange T-shirt with white stripes around the cuffs and a white 01 across the chest, she sat at the head of a sparsely populated classroom. Golden, late September sunshine fell through the big window overlooking the athletic field and Pine Street beyond and dust motes swirled in it like wind-driven snow. At the head of the room, Principal Wilson half-sat on the edge of the teacher's desk and studied a clipboard, the pages making crisp sounds every time he flipped from one to another. He muttered sourly under his breath and let out a frustrated sigh.

A tall man with silvery hair and dressed in a gray Members' Only jacket over a white Oxford, he looked older than his forty-eight years. Deep lines creased his leathery face and his faded, gun-metal eyes reminded Sam of her seventy-year-old grandfather. The top buttons of his shirt were undone to reveal a silver chain and furry gray chest hair, and every time Sam caught sight of it, she almost ralphed. Like those stuck-up bitches on the cheer squad might say: Gag me with a fucking spoon.

She blew a puff of air that stirred her bangs and flopped her head back as if to surrender her spirit to a higher power. She cherished her time off, you know? Monday through Friday, 8 to 4, she dragged herself into this lame ass place and did what lame ass teachers told her to. Saturdays were, like, sacred or something, and having to come in here and do detention for the whole day was some human rights abuse shit. So what she decked Lisa Thompson in the face at lunch yesterday? The snotty bitch had it coming. She was always walking around with her nose in the air and treating everyone like they were dumb. Correcting grammar, jumping into conversations, generally being an unsufferable little dweeb.

Really, Principal Wilson should give her a medal or something.

But noooo, he gave her Saturday detention. He took the one thing she looked forward to every week and smashed it into a million little pieces.

She unwrapped a piece of chewing gum and popped it into her mouth. She already wanted a cigarette and the day hadn't even started.

It was gonna be a fucking long one.

Principal Wilson looked up from his clipboard and scanned the room. "Luna Johnson?" he asked.

"Here," a meek voice replied from the back of the room. Luna Johnson, the eleventh grade's resident goody-two shoes wore a white blouse, a purple skirt, and socks pulled to her knees. A purple hair band kept her long auburn hair from falling in her face. Her freckled features were delicate, her eyes never made contact with yours, and every time Sam saw her, her head was down.

In other words, she was soft. And probably a snitch too.

Moving on, Principal Wilson asked, "Jordan Clark?"

"Here."

Jordan sat at the opposite end of the room, hunched over her desk like someone was gonna take it from her. She wore an oversized blue letterman jacket that probably came from her boyfriend and her blonde hair in a French braid. She played basketball. Or foosball. Sam didn't know and she didn't really care. Jocks could all go get fucked as far as she was concerned.

"Leni Standish?"

"That's me!"

Leni, a perky blonde, sat three seats behind Sam. She wore an aquamarine dress and pink leg warmers that slipped down her calves like excess skin.

"Leni," Principal WIlson said with strained patience, "you can put your hand down now."

"Okay!"

The gum was already starting to lose its flavor, and Sam looked longingly at the window. If she was out there, she'd be smoking a Marlboro right now. No, no, if she was out there, she wouldn't even be awake right now. She'd still be bed, fast asleep.

Loss clutched her and she exhaled through her nose.

She just wanted to go home, was that really so much to ask? Why did they have to cut into her weekend like this? Why couldn't they just punish her on their own time instead of invading her personal life? That should, like, be against the law.

"Maggie Bueller?"

No one answered.

"Bueller?" Principal Wilson asked again.

Nothing.

"Bueller?"

"Bueller?"

"Bueller?"

"Bueller?"

"Bueller?"

He looked around as though Maggie's hand would shoot up (_sorry, Mr. Wilson, I didn't hear you the first fifty times_). Just then, the door opened and a girl with long black hair and pallid skin slipped in. She wore a long skirt that reached her ankles and a black blazer with big shoulder pads over a shit-brown sweater. A single silver cross dangled from one ear and her dark eyes stared out from under a brow heavy with displeasure.

"Ah," Principal Wilson said, "how nice of you to join us, Ms. Bueller."

"It's pronounced Buhl-er," Maggie said flatly.

"It's pronounced sit your ass down and shut up," Principal Wilson snapped. Maggie rolled her eyes and sank into the seat to Sam's right. Shifting off the desk, Principal Wilson put his hands on his hips and scanned the gathering before him. "Now that we're all here," he said, "we have a perfect cross-section of everything that's wrong with this school."

And here it comes, Sam thought, one of his epic hissy fits. Wah wah wah, back in my day, wah wah, wah, you're all slackers and snot-nosed punks. Sam had been listening to this guy's shit for two years and it was _old_.

"...slackers and snot-nosed punks," he was saying. "We have a muscle head, an airhead, a dick head, and...whatever the hell you are." He gestured toward Maggie. "I'm not even sure you go to this school."

Maggie gave a resigned little nod. "Yeah. I'm memorable."

"Which one's the airhead?" Leni asked and tapped her chin with her index finger.

"You, shit for brains." Principal Wilson said. "And Bender's the dick head."

Sam breathed a long suffering sigh, and Principal Wilson shot her daggers. "You got something to say, Bender?" he demanded. When she didn't speak, he bent over the desk. "Huh? You got some smart aleck remark cooking up in that little brain of yours?"

A hot flush of anger crept across the back of Sam's neck, and her hands balled into shaking fists. She didn't like being called stupid. That's why she busted Lisa Thompson's nose yesterday, and if he didn't get his ugly face away from her, it'd be the reason she busted Principal Wilson's today. "No," she growled, then added a mocking, "sir.," for good measure.

For a moment, Principal Wilson glared at her, then he stood up straight. "Because of you jackasses, I have to spend my entire day putzing around the school. I _was _going to go golfing with Frank and Ernie, but instead I have to babysit a bunch of kids who should know better."

The condescending sound of his voice was starting to really piss Sam off, and she couldn't have held back her reply if she wanted to. "You're the one who chose to put us here on a Saturday," she charged. "This is your fault."

The old man's face darkened, and Sam's heartbeat sped up. C'mon, buddy, make a move. I'll take your ass down to Funkytown and leave you beaten and bloody on the corner of Electric Avenue.

Then probably go to juvie.

"That's another week of detention, Bender."

Sam sneered. "Guess you don't value your Saturdays anymore than you value your students."

"Two weeks."

"Asshole."

"Eight weeks," Principal Wilson said.

Sam opened her mouth to continue, but thought better of it. He was probably blowing hot air about giving her eight weeks of detention, but if she didn't quit while she was ahead, he might very well follow through with it.

"That's what I thought," he said. He turned around, went to the desk, and grabbed a stack of papers. He walked through the room, putting one in front of each detainee, then passed around a handful of pencils. Oh, nice, looks like we have an assignment, Sam thought.

At the head of the room again, Principal Wilson said, "I want each of you to write an essay. One thousand words on "Why I Suck and Why Principal Wilson is a Saint for Putting up with My Shit.""

Sam rolled her eyes.

"I can make it two thousand, if you want."

Ugh. "Sounds like a great topic, sir.," she said. "I just can't wait to get started."

"You're in luck, 'cause you're starting now." He went to the desk, opened the drawer, and took something out, shoving it into his coat pocket. "I have shit to do in the office. I'll look in on you from time-to-time. If I find _anything _I don't like, I'll kick your asses inside out. Got it?"

Sam blew a bubble with a loud, obnoxious pop. _Don't let the door hit you on the way out, _it seemed to say.

Glowering like he just sucked a lemon to completion, Principal Wilson stalked over and held his hand out, palm up. Sam made sure to get the gum nice and wet before pushing it out with her tongue. It plopped onto his hand, and he threw it across the room; it landed on the floor in front of the window. "I don't like gum," he said.

It took everything Sam had to keep from saying _I don't like _you.

Principal Wilson looked around the room, perhaps in hopes of intimidating everyone into submission, then turned and went to the door. "By the way, if you don't finish in time, you're staying here until it's done. And I won't be happy."

Get lost, jerk.

He twisted the knob, disappeared into the hall, and shut the door behind him. The tumblers caught with a little metallic clink of finality, and Sam sighed.

This was going to be a long, long, long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lyrics to _Don't Change That Song _by Faster Pussycat (1987)**

_Which way? _Lisa Thompson asked herself.

A chubby girl with stringy, greasy brown hair, translucent skin, and big glasses, Lisa was what one might call a geek. That, to her, was simply slang for "One who cares about their academic excellence and wants the most out of their future prospects." She studied hard, sat at the front of the class, and raised her hand every time the teacher asked the class a question. She reported each infraction she witnessed among her classmates and treated the staff of Royal County High with the reverence they deserved. Her grades were impeccable, her conduct unimpeachable, and her mind her most important asset.

That latter mainly because she was frumpy and therefore unappealing to the opposite sex. She did not date like other girls and told everyone who wondered (even if they didn't ask) that she eschewed boys in favor of her studies. She tried to tell herself the same, but she knew better. She was unattractive and knew it. No boy had ever looked at her and if she dwelled upon that fact, she would become depressed.

Her looks were subpar, but her intelligence was prodigious, and she took delight in being vastly superior to her classmates. They were middling at best and she held them in contempt.

Especially Sam Bender.

Sam represented everything wrong with modern society. She was shallow, vain, dumb, and flippant. She took nothing seriously. Was she even aware of the Iran-Contra affair? Did she watch President Reagan implore Soviet premier Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall? No, for she only cared about fun and rock and roll. She was one of those many, many benighted fools who disregarded her studies and squandered the educational opportunities afforded to her by the Royal County school system. She was a taker and a user and didn't even appreciate anything.

And yesterday, she struck Lisa in the face, resulting in epistaxis. AKA nosebleed. Perhaps any other time, Lisa would have taken her lumps and moved on, but moments before the attack, Lisa had resolved to finally talk to Cory Studwell, the most handsome boy in school. She was desperate and felt the ticking of her biological clock growing faster and faster even though she was only sixteen. It was now or never.

Then Sam hit her, and she bled in front of him. Lisa was so humiliated that she wept upon getting home.

Now...she was getting even.

Presently, she was somewhere in the network of air ducts running over the school. The only illumination came from sunlight falling through vents leading to the roof, and the air was so hot that sweat rolled down her face in fat beads.

Behind her, her twin brother Lester struggled through the narrow confines of the shaft, his blubbery face flushed and coated in perspiration. Like the terminal moron he was, he wore a plaid shirt beneath a sweater vest. Lisa herself wore shorts and a pale pink polo shirt, for she wasn't dead from the neck up and understood that heat rose, which would make the vents nearly intolerable. She advised Lester to dress accordingly, but he rebuffed her. At five seconds older, he clung to the mistaken belief that he knew better than she.

"Are we almost there?" he asked. He brushed his sodden bangs from his face and fought to catch his breath.

"Shortly," Lisa said even though she didn't know. Her plan, as genius as it was, possessed one fatal flaw: She neglected to discover which room held the detention facilities.

"I've acquired friction burns on my arms and knees," Lester groused. "And I'm close to collapsing."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "If you'd stop bellyaching, I'd be able to hear myself think."

"If you weren't such a cunt to everyone, this wouldn't be necessary."

Lisa grated. "And if you didn't go back for second and third helpings at dinner, you'd actually fit."

"Excuse me for not building my dietary habits around your whim," Lester sniffed.

Ignoring his petite attempt at a barb, Lisa crawled into the intersection and considered her options. To her left, another vent met the one they presently in and formed a T. If they continued ahead, they would, unless she was mistaken, pass over the cafeteria (site of yesterday's indignity) and the gymnasium. Left would bring them -

Her highly attuned ears detected something.

A sound.

Music.

"This way," she said and went left. Grumbling under his breath, Lester followed, his knees and elbows banging against the metal. "Quiet," Lisa hissed.

_I'm coming for you, Sam Bender, _she thought.

* * *

After Principal Wilson had been gone a few minutes and Sam was sure he wouldn't come back in, she got to her feet, retrieved her gum, and tossed it into her mouth. "Ew," Leni said, "grody."

"That's my only piece," Sam said. She went to the window and peered out. Past the athletic field, kids rode bikes up and down the street and a group of little girls skipped rope. It was a perfect day...and she was stuck in here with the school's biggest losers. She pressed her forehead to the glass and sighed.

She needed a cigarette.

An idea struck her, and she tried to lift the sash.

It wouldn't budge.

Huh?

She examined it and discovered why. "Nailed shut," she then barked a harsh, humorless laugh. Of course it was nailed shut, why wouldn't it be? Now she couldn't even sneak out and have a smoke. She swished the gum from one side of her mouth to the other and tried to think of a way to slip out before Principal Dickface came back.

Leni was watching her with something like disgust and she knitted her brows. "What are _you _looking at, Valley Girl?"

"That was, like, in his hand." She shuddered. "Barf me out.'

"Shut up."

"Will you assholes be quiet?" Jordan asked from across the room. "I'm trying to do my essay."

"You can shut up too," Sam said. She pushed away from the sill and paced back and forth like a caged animal. This was all _kinds _of bogus. If she could have a fucking cigarette, she could make it through the day. Without one, she was going to go crazy. "I'm gonna lose it," she said to herself and ran her fingers through her hair.

Maggie turned to her. "Can you sit down?"

"Can you suck my clit?" Sam shot back.

Maggie's face darkened. "You hit someone in the face. You got punished. Deal with it."

"The bitch deserved it," Sam said defensively. She didn't appreciate having that shit thrown back at her. She had a reputation for being tough and stuff, but she didn't like hurting people, you know? Every time she went back to hitting Lisa, her stomach tangled up and she felt...well, she felt bad. The blood-gushing was bad enough but when Lisa started crying? Yeah, barf me out indeed. "She's a narc and a nerd and she treats everyone like they're stupid."

Maggie rolled her eyes. "Everyone in this school is stupid."

A balled up piece of paper hit her in the side of the head and bounced off. "Can it, Elvira," Jordan said.

Sam went back to pacing and Maggie picked up her pencil. After a minute, she heaved a frustrated sigh. "Really, you're making me nervous, why can't you just sit down?"

"Because," Sam said, "I'm stuck in here _all _day long. You know, the eighties won't last forever, I'd like to enjoy them while I can."

Maggie favored her with a blank stare. "Oh, no," she said with a mocking hilt, "the eighties...not the eighties. Ronald Reagan, New Coke, synthesizers. Wouldn't wanna miss out on _that." _

A beat passed.

"You're a sad little person," Sam said, "you know that?"

"I'd be a lot happier if you sat down," Maggie said.

In the back, Leni leaned to one side and held up her hand to shield her mouth. Next to her, Luna tensed. "Psst...how do you spell Leni?"

Sam dropped into her seat and crossed her arms. "So you guys are just gonna sit there and do your essay, huh?"

"Yes," Jordan said, "now shut up or I'll come shut you up."

Oooh, that sounded like a threat. Sam sat up straight and twisted around to face the jock. "You think so? This isn't football, we don't use pads and helmets like pussies where I come from."

"I play basketball," Jordan said tightly, "we don't use pads."

"No, but if you touch another, game over," Sam said. She threw her head back. "Waaaahh, he dribbled the ball too fast, waaah."

Maggie massaged her temples with her fingertips. "Will both of you be quiet?"

"Sorry," Sam said, "didn't mean to interrupt your gloom and brooding."

"I wouldn't have to brood if you weren't so goddamn obnoxious," Maggie shot back. "Just shut up and stop crying. Be a big girl and deal with your shit."

Jordan pointed at Maggie. "That vampire has a point."

"She's a vampire?" Leni gasped. She held her index fingers together in the rough shape of a cross and thrust them out at Maggie. "Leave me alone."

Maggie threw her hands up and took a deep breath. Light red color crept across her cheeks and her nostrils flared, putting Sam in mind of an angry dragon. Maybe Sam was going too far. Maybe she needed to take Maggie and Jordan's advice and shut up. Picking on people is fun, though, and her day needed as much fun as it could get.

'Cause it sure as hell couldn't have a cigarette.

"Good thing she's not a zombie," Jordan said, "or she'd go for your brain and starve."

A laugh was shocked from Sam's throat. "Good one, John Elway."

Maggie bent over her paper, picked up her pencil, and started to write. Everyone else calmed down and followed her example except for Sam and Luna, Luna because she had been writing this whole time and Sam because fuck that essay. If she was going to write a bunch of words, she needed music.

Luckily, she had just the thing.

She reached into her backpack and pulled out a giant, gloriously eighties boombox with knobs, levers, built in speakers on either side of its read out, and not one but _two _tape decks. Music was probably the only thing she took seriously and it showed.

Setting the boombox on her desk, she pressed the PLAY button, and loud, blistering rock filled the room, startling Luna and drawing another long-suffering sigh from Maggie.

_Before I turn on my lover, gotta turn on my stereo_

_And it goes in better with a little bit of rock and roll_

There we go, that's better.

She picked up her pencil and tapped it against her chin. Now to kiss Mr. Wilson's ass for a thousand words. Like seriously, this was _totally _humiliating.

_Don't you change that song_

_It's my favorite record_

_Don't you change that song_

_It goes on and on again_

"Will you turn that shit off?" Jordan shouted to be heard over the music.

Sam turned it up.

A grimace crossed Leni's face and she daintily plugged her ears with her fingers. Maggie hung her head and Luna stared down at her paper, frozen, perhaps in fear of what would happen if Principal Wilson came back. Sam just needed one song to get the ol' pump primed, then she'd turn it off.

_I took her forty-fives right in my hand_

_And baby, I've got twelve inches of fun always at my command_

_Ease it out of the sleeve, put the needle in the groove_

_It ain't no silver platter, it's a matter of who does who_

Sam nodded her head in time and started to write. Jordan got half to her feet, then slammed her butt back down when the door exploded open and Principal Wilson stormed in. Before Sam could react, he lashed out with a surprisingly agile kick that hit the radio dead center. Its plastic face crunched and it sailed across the room, hitting the wall and shattering. The music cut out and Sam gaped. "Hey!"

Principal Wilson went over, braced his hands on the wall, and kicked the shit out of it; his lips peeled away from his teeth, his eyes shone with madness, and a fat vein throbbed on the side of his neck. He kicked it again and again and again, and Sam could only watch, her muscles petrified in shock.

When the radio was a little bitty pile of broken plastic, he spun on his heels and fixed her with a glower. "You thought I was whistling Dixie, didn't you?"

Sam's vocal cords unlocked. "My radio!"

He gave it one final kick and the pieces scattered. "I'll make you a deal, Bender," he panted, "you put that piece of crap back together and get it to work, I'll let you go. How does that sound?"

Like bullshit.

Principal Wilson brushed his hand over his hair, even though nary a strand had come out of place, and scanned the room. "Anyone else wanna try somethng stupid?"

No one replied.

"Now I'm going back to the office. I swear on my mother's grave, the next person to fuck up in here will wish they were never born." He cast one final look at the radio, then left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Sam sagged in defeat, and Jordan snickered. "Shut up," Sam said. "That radio cost me 200 dollars."

"You shouldn't have brought it out like that," Maggie said, "that was a really dumb thing to do."

Heat rose in Sam's chest. "Excuse me for wanting to liven this funeral up."

"Don't worry about livening it up," Maggie said, "just do your essay." She turned back to her page and started to write again.

"I don't wanna do this essay," Sam said. "He's literally having us do this just to stroke his ego. And you are playing right into his hands."

Maggie didn't reply.

"Seriously," Jordan said, her tone sober, "just do what he says. You already got your radio broken, what else you gotta do before you realize you're screwed?"

Sam opened her mouth to reply, but snapped it closed again. Deep down, she knew Jordan was right. Fighting back against Principal WIlson would get her nowhere. He had the high ground and could do whatever he wanted. It was bullshit and it pissed her off, but that's just how things were. "It's not cool, though," she said, no force in her voice.

"No, it's not," Jordan agreed, "but you gotta just take it. The coach rides my ass 24/7 and I take it.' She shrugged. "I have to watch what I eat, watch what I drink, watch how I act because _oh, you represent the team, Jordan_. Every time I mess up, she comes down on me like a ton of bricks and sometimes when I get home at night I'm freaking shaking." Her voice started to rise with passion and an insane gleam flashed in her eyes. "Then my parents start in on me. Be the best, get the best grades, play the best game, be like your sister, why can't you be like your sister?" She trembled like an addict in the grips of an epic high. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But I take it because like Coach says: You gotta roll with the punches or your ass is out."

Everyone was looking at her now, Sam included. She didn't know Jordan very well, but she sensed that this kind of admission wasn't par for the course with her. "I'm sorry," Sam said awkwardly, "uh...my parents don't do that to me, so...I don't know what that's like."

"My parents are rich bourgie assholes," Maggie said. "They leave me alone, though."

"Yeah, mine too," Sam said, "the leave me alone part. It's just my mom, though. I don't have a dad."

Leni's forehead crinkled confusedly. "Like...how do you not have a dad? My mom said you make babies when a boy puts his thing in your thing. Was that a lie?" A note of uncertainty entered her voice. Next to her, Luna blushed furiously and tried to cover her face with her hand.

"He's just not around, okay?" Sam said. "I really don't want to talk about it." She was surprised by the gravity of her own voice, but not by the emotions in her chest. She didn't like thinking about her father. It was one of those things...those serious things...that she did her best to ignore.

"My dad too," Maggie said, "he's always at work. Now can we cut the therapy session and get back to our essays, please?"

The gum had entirely lost its flavor and Sam realized for the first time in a half an hour that it was still in her mouth. She took it out and stuck it under the desk, then picked up her pencil. Maggie was right. They needed to do these essays or else they'd be in here forever.

Sighing, Sam got to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Lyrics to _La Isla Bonita _by Madonna (1986)**

Hand over hand, inch by inch, the Thompson twins made their way toward the source of the noise, Lisa in the lead and Lester bringing up the rear. Dust stirred by their passage choked the too-hot air and tickled her nose, but she held her sneeze lest it alert someone to their presence. On their journey, they came across the rotten carcass of a dead rat, and Lester made a noise of revulsion in the back of his throat. "That's going to be us," he worried, "dead and starved over one girl's unchecked hubris."

"Shut up," she snapped.

He was right, she reflected as she slithered snake-like through layers of dust. Her pride was wounded. This righteous quest, which she had been plotting since yesterday afternoon, was nothing but balm on a burn, and perhaps not even quite that.

Her resolve wavered and for a few feet, she seriously considered turning around. Lester, as ignorant and arrogant as he could be, was right, she _was _a quote unquote cunt to people. She realized her personality was off-putting but she couldn't help it. If her fellow students weren't so shallow and self-absorbed, perhaps she wouldn't have to be this way.

It was, therefore, their fault, not hers.

Of that she became convinced. Sam and whoever else was present today had earned their punishment for making her this way. She wasn't wrong, it was them.

Presently, they came to another junction, this one four-way. She stopped, cocked her head like a dog, and listened. The music, distant and tinny, seemed to be coming from the left. She went in that direction, and Lester followed. "Neither one of us is exactly thin," he commented, "it's a wonder the ventilation system is supporting our weight."

"The ductwork is at least fifty years old," Lisa replied authoritatively, "and things were built to last then."

"Indeed," Lester said, then brushed a cobweb from his face.

Before long, the music cut out, but Lisa knew for certain where it was coming from. Sweat poured from her in rivulets and stung her eyes, but she forged ahead anyway. Her slick palms slipped here and there, and at one point something scurried over the back of her hand, stopping her dead in her tracks. She dearly hoped it wasn't a spider. She was not fond of arachnids.

Fifty feet later, the sound of talking echoed through the vent, and Lisa's heart leapt into her throat. She came to a grinding halt, and Lester bumped into her. "Could you signal your stops?" he asked. "I'd like to not touch your rear end with my face."

"Shhh."

The sound was coming from a grate in the floor roughly twenty feet ahead. Half way, the tunnel inexplicably widened, and Lisa was able to sit, the top of the shaft being just above her head. Lester, taller, was forced to stretch out on his side like some sort of grotesque centerfold in a world where women had no standards. He started to say something no doubt stupid, but Lisa held up her hand to silence him.

"_...not cool, though,_" someone said, and Lisa's jaw clenched.

Sam.

_I've got you now, _Lisa thought.

She unshouldered the pack and sat it in her lap. She unzipped it, rummaged around, and took out a small, cylindrical device. Lester's eyes flicked between it and her face, and his tongue swiped nervously across his bottom lip like a fat, pink worm. A change came over him. Gone was the undeserved cockiness, replaced by a ware caution born of hard experience. Lisa had been dabbling with strange and volatile chemicals since they were children and had caused countless explosions, gas leaks, and calamities. He understood and begrudgingly respected her power, and knew as soon as she recruited him to help her that she had something truly awesome in store for Sam Bender. "Are you going to tell me what that thing is?" he asked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"You'll see," Lisa said to herself, "you'll _all _see."

* * *

Sam sat back in her seat and let out a long breath. A tranquil hush, broken only by the scribbling of pencils on paper, lay over the room like a wet blanket, and it was starting to make her drowsy. She glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned. Only 10:45. This morning had been a fucking dick year and afternoon was still as far away as the year 1990. "I need music," she moaned.

"Put your radio back together," Maggie said without looking up from her assignment.

"Yeah, as if," Sam said.

"Oooh, you can borrow my Walkman," Leni said. She twisted around, picked her backpack up, and opened it. She took out a clunky red Walkman and thrust it out to Sam. Sam didn't take nothin' from no one...but this was an emergency. She reached for it, and Leni's face hardened. "Don't break it like you broke your last one."

"I'm not gonna break it," Sam said and snatched it away. She put the headphones over her ears and pushed PLAY.

_Tropical the island breeze_

_All of nature wild and free_

_This is where I long to be_

_La isla bonita_

Sam ripped the headphones off. "Ew, Madonna."

Leni's face lit up. "I know, right? She's my _best _singer." She waved her hand.

"Madonna sucks," Sam said. "Anyone got anything else?" She looked around. "Meathead? Paleface?"

"No," Maggie said.

"Sorry," Jordan said.

Ugh. "So no one here listens to good music?"

Maggie flipped her paper over. "Define good music."

"Poison, Bon Jovi. Motley Crue, Def Leppard, AC/DC, Cinderella…" Sam trailed off. There were so many good bands that naming them all was hard.

"You call that good music?" Maggie asked. "You're so generic."

Generic? "What's that supposed to mean?"

Maggie sighed and looked up. "It means you suck from the commercial/corporate teet like the braindead consumer you are. Your music is prepackaged and cookie cutter, your media is spoon-fed to you, you're just like 30 million other people in this country. You might as well have dropped off an assembly line for all the individuality you have. You're a cog. Another flavor of conformist. There's nothing to you but hairspray and power pop drivel about getting high and exploiting women. In other words...you're part of the problem."

Shocked silence filled the room. "Ooooh, I think she just insulted you," Jordan said.

Yeah? Sam thought that too. "Hey, fuck you," she said. "You think you're sooo much better than me because you wear a jacket you got at the Goodwill and read books. Ooooh, look at me, I hate what you enjoy because hating stuff everyone else likes makes me cool."

"I don't care about looking cool," Maggie said.

"Good, because you're not cool. You're a grumpy bitch."

Maggie lifted her middle finger, and Sam lifted hers back. "Can you guys, like, stop?" Leni asked. "Fighting is dumb. We should be friends."

That made Sam laugh.

"I don't want to be friends with her," Maggie grumbled. "She's the type of bitch who picks on me."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I don't even _know_ you. I, like, never even seen you."

"Exactly, because if I let you see me, you'll pick on me."

What the hell was she even talking about? "I've never picked on you, I wouldn't pick on you, I have better things to do with my life than mess with random people."

"Oh? Like you didn't punch Lisa in the face?"

Those words hit Sam like a fist and her first instinct was to lash out and make Maggie sorry for uttering them. Instead, she caught herself and inhaled slowly through her nose. "I'm sorry for hitting her," she said. "Okay? I wish I didn't do it. She just started with that _you're stupid _crap again and I snapped." The memory of Lisa's face, nose gushing blood and eyes brimming with tears, danced across her mind, and she suddenly felt something she wasn't accustomed to.

Shame.

She was ashamed of herself for punching Lisa. Lisa was annoying as shit, but she was pudgy and soft and...Sam should have known better. It was like hitting a chick in a wheelchair or something.

As much as thinking about that kind of...hurt...what hurt more was the fact that Maggie automatically assumed she would pick on her. Like...why? She didn't -

Well...okay, maybe she _did _kind of mess with people, but she didn't mean anything by it, she was just having fun.

Did she say anything out of the way to Maggie today? She thought back but her memory was hazy. She was in the beginnings of a righteous nicotine withdrawal and thinking was hard. She didn't remember saying anything. In fact…

"And for the record," Sam said, "you started in on me."

Maggie shrugged one shoulder. "Eh. Gotta strike first."

Huh?

"Oh, so because you're, what, afraid of getting bullied, you bully other people just in case? That's a pretty fucked way of looking at things."

"I know your type," Maggie said, then hooked her thumb over her shoulder at Jordan. "Hers too. You're both the kind who like to tease people for being different."

Jordan's brow lowered. "I said less to you then she did. Don't blame us because you're a sensitive pussy."

A shadow flickered across Maggie's face, but before she turned away, Sam glimpsed something in her eyes that put her uncomfortably in mind of Lisa yesterday afternoon.

"Look," Sam said, "I screw around with people but I don't, like, tease them or anything. I'm sorry people mess you but you don't have to worry about me, alright? I'm not gonna ruin your life or try to make you feel bad about yourself. I just wanna get the hell out of here."

Maggie didn't respond.

"I think she, like, needs a hug," Leni said. She shifted out of her chair, slipped between the desks, and advanced on Maggie with her arms outstretched.

Maggie shot her a dirty look. "Don't - "

Before she could finish, Leni bent and swept her into a tight, spine-snapping embrace. Maggie's sour expression deepened and nostrils flared. "...hug me," she finished.

"It's okay," Leni cooed, "I won't let anyone pick on you."

She favored Sam with a challenging expression, and Sam threw her head back in defeat. "Fine," she said, "I guess I'm the worst person in the school now."

Maggie pulled away from Leni and held her hands up, palms out, as if begging the blonde not to murder her. Leni pouted and stuck out her bottom lip. "Thank you," Maggie said, "but I'm okay. I can take care of myself. Go sit back down."

"Okay," Leni said heavily. "I'll be at my desk if you need me."

"Thank you."

Leni held up her thumb, then returned to her seat.

For a long time, Sam stared down at her paper and tried to concentrate, but her mind kept going back to Lisa and Maggie. She didn't pick on people. She was kind of loud, and willful, and headstrong, and rebellious, and careless, and...a lot of things...but she wasn't a sadist or anything. There's nothing really wrong with a little light teasing, is there? Like, there's a huge difference between ribbing someone and making their life a living hell.

Now she was paranoid. _Was _she a bully?

No, she decided. She didn't even mess with people all that much, just a quick joke here and there, like the time she told Kenny Meyers that the zit on his forehead made him look Hindu, then called him Ali-Baba for the rest of the day. She told Brian Miller - nicknamed Big Brian because he weighed 300 pounds - that he had more folds than a basket of laundry, then called Candi Parker Frankensten because of her broad forehead. That was a far cry from, like, shoving someone in a locker or hounding them every time you see them in the hall. Plus, she only messed with people who annoyed her. Candi was one of those Leni-like Valley Girls who sounded like a chipmunk when they talked, Brian kept checking her out and licking his lips, and Kenny...well, Kenny was cool, she liked him. He told good jokes.

That was all okay, though. She didn't know Maggie or what kind of shit someone _may _have given her, but it wasn't a little teasing. It was someone really bothering her.

Or she took someone's teasing the wrong way.

Sam sighed and sat back. Her mouth was dry, her throat as tacky, and she was starting to get restless. She needed a cigarette, stat.

Her eyes drifted to the door. The only way out of the room was through there. Room 234 was smack-dab in the middle of the main hall. To the left was the office, and to the right, the gym, where the sole door to the outside had an alarm on it. There was no way, then, that she could get outside without passing Principal Dickhead.

Sigh.

Was it worth it? If she got caught, she was fucked.

She licked her lips.

Yeah.

It _was. _

She glanced suspiciously over her shoulder. Leni scribbled on her paper, a big, goofy smile plastered to her face, and Luna rooted through her purse for something. She took something out, and a red and white package dropped onto the floor. As soon as Sam registered what it was, she blinked.

Marlboros.

"You smoke?" she asked.

Luna hurriedly picked the pack up and put them away with a shamefaced expression. "Uh...y-yeah."

"Wow, _that's _a shock," Sam said, "you're literally the last person I'd expect to smoke cigarettes."

A pink blush colored Luna's cheeks and she darted her eyes to her paper. "I-I guess."

Sam laughed. Like Maggie, Luna Loud was one of those creatures who haunt the halls like a ghost, rarely seen and seldom heard. She had a way of blending into the background; Sam _knew _she'd had classes with her, but she couldn't remember which ones, and she was certain they had crossed paths in the corridors and the cafeteria, but she couldn't think of a single instance. If Sam recalled correctly, they went to junior high together too, and, come to think of it, she couldn't recollect Luna uttering a single word. She was a prim, proper, shy, and (probably) on the honor roll. She was as uncool as they come and Sam was honestly blown away that she _smoked_.

An idea struck her. "You wanna go burn one?"

Luna's eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. "Uh...n-no, Principal Wilson might get mad."

"Fuck Principal Wilson." She glanced at the clock. 11 on the nose. "It's been hours since you had one. I know you're starting to get the cravings."

Luna brushed her teeth over her lower lip and bowed her head to hide the need in her eyes. "I'm fine," she said. She shrugged one shoulder and swallowed thickly. "I can wait."

She crossed her legs and one black, buckle-adorned shoe began to jitter. Sam had been smoking for five years and her mother had been smoking since, like, the sixties or something, so she wasn't dumb; Miss Goody-not-so-Good was jonesing for a smoke. Being a teacher's little suck-up, though, she might just wait. Can you imagine that? Sitting there, consumed by the most powerful craving known to man, for eight hours because some queer in a Members' Only jacket told you to? Like, wow, okay then.

Any other time, Sam would have said _Your funeral _and gone on her own, but now that she had a potential smoke buddy, she didn't want to go alone. Maybe she figured if they were caught, Luna could absorb some of Principal Nodick's wrath, or maybe she wanted to hang out and talk. Whatever the reason, she decided right then and there that Luna Loud was coming with her.

Now to tempt her ass.

Leaning over to get as close to Luna as possible (which wasn't very close at all), she lowered her voice. A wicked smile danced at the corners of her mouth and a devious light twinkled in her eye. Luna felt her gaze and glanced up, her limpid browns pooling with apprehension. She was a snowy white lamb, and Sam was the big, bad wolf. Chomp. "C'mon," Sam said, "don't tell me you aren't feening. I can see it in your face."

"I-I'm not," Luna said, "honest."

Sam sickered. "Yeah, man, you're _not _honest."

"I am," Luna said.

"You are feening? Great, come on."

Luna's eyes widened. "No, I mean...I'm not."

Okay, she needed a little extra convincing. Luckily, Sam had just the thing. "Alright. Fine. We'll just pretend. Close your eyes and imagine that rich, full flavor...the way it pinches the back of your throat...the warm, fuzzy satisfaction of that first puff…"

Luna stared into space, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip and a slight, needy tremor running through her frame. Her pencil, clutched between her index and middle fingers, rapidly tapped the desk, then snapped in half when she unthinkingly bore down on it. She shook her head as if to dispel her trance and sat the pencil aside with shaky hands.

"What do you say?" Sam asked.

Luna licked her lips and took a deep breath. Hers and Sam's eyes met, and Sam could see the girl's resolve break like ice. "O-Okay."

Ha.

"Let's go," Sam said.

She got up from her desk and waited for Luna to follow. Jordan glanced over at them, indifferent, then back to her paper. Leni, having taken back her Walkman, bobbed her head from side to side, the headphones pumping sonic raw sewage directly into her ears. "Where are you going?" Maggie asked her paper.

"Me and Good McGee are gonna go smoke a cigarette."

Maggie hummed judgmentally. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"What if Principal Wilson comes back?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno. Tell him we went to take a piss."

Jordan's brows furrowed. "That's a really dumb idea, you're gonna get caught."

That sounded like a challenge. "Yeah? Watch us." She glanced over her shoulder at Luna, who hadn't moved. "Come on."

Luna hesitated, perhaps having second thoughts, then grabbed her purse and shifted out of her chair. Sam went to the door, turned the knob ever so slowly (just in case), then poked her head into the hall. At the far left, sunlight streamed through the windows flanking the main door and saturated the tiled floor like puddles of melted gold, and the low roar of cool air being pumped through the vents provided an ambient score. Sam tilted her head to one side and listened for Principal Peterpuffer.

Nothing.

Luna stood meekly behind her, hands fisted to her chest and a look of anxiety on her face.

She was kind of cute.

In a non gay kind of way!

"Come on," Sam said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Lyrics to _Smokin' in the Boys Room _by Motley Crue (1985)**

Lisa stroked the cylinder like a Catholic praying the rosary and mentally counted toward 100.

She was nervous.

Was she really going to unleash chemical hell upon a group of her classmates? Was she really? Her mind returned to yesterday afternoon. She stood apart from the proceedings like a wayward spirit and watched as Sam Bender's fist connected with her nose. She half spun, fell against a table, and crumpled to the floor. Blood oozed from her swollen nostrils and hot tears welled in her eyes. A smattering of laughter, shocked gasps, and hisses and catcalls of delight swept the cafeteria. The feelings of shame, humiliation, and throbbing pain came back to her in a flood, and her hand closed around the device so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Yes, she _was _going to do this. People like Sam Bender believe that they can waltz through life and do anything they want, and that people will simply let them. They see the timid as victims, for the timid never fight back until, one day, they're pushed too far and do it with the barrel of a gun, like the man who shot up that McDonald's in California a few years ago. Lisa had tolerated many, many transgressions from her classmates over the years. She took their cruel taunts in stride, she accepted their jeers and name calling because, frankly, she couldn't do anything about it. She was slightly overweight, physically weak, and unable to fight. She was, therefore, forced to endure.

But yesterday...yesterday, they finally pushed her too far.

One must, in the course of life, put one's foot down. And today, she, Lisa Thompson, was going to put her foot down so hard that the floors would shake, the walls would rattle, and that everyone would recognize her as the powerhouse she was and leave her alone.

Or else.

Lester, his bloated, pimple studded face sheened in sweat, regarded her as though afraid she would lash out at the slightest provocation. Did he see the madness in her eyes? Did he sense the dark resolve wafting from her in sickly waves? Did he, at last, understand that she was not to be trifled with?

"You look constipated," he remarked.

Apparently not.

Lisa could not fault him for this. He was but an intellectual sapling compared to her. He was, in other words, mentally deficient, so of course he would fail to see what was right before his eyes.

She ran her fingers over the device and took a deep breath. The hour of judgement was at hand, she reckoned. Now or never.

Getting to her knees, she brushed past her brother and crawled to the grate. Between the slats, a blonde head was visible, and a black one several seats up and across. Lisa looked specifically for Sam but didn't see her. That was of no matter, the gas would find her regardless.

Lisa sat the device aside and ran her fingers over the edges of the grate, finding the screws holding it in place. "Lester," she whispered, "hand me the flat-head screwdriver from my bag."

A second later, something tapped her hip and she reached back to grab it. She went to insert the tip into one of the screw holes (the sexual connotations not being lost on her, as she was a hormonal teenage girl), but it wouldn't fit. "I said flat head," she hissed, "this is a Philip's head."

"I heard flat," Lester spat.

"You misheard. Hand me the correct screwdriver and try not to hurt your tiny brain figuring out which one it is."

Lester sighed. A second later. "Here. I hope you lacerate yourself with it."

She took it and used it to unfasten two of the screws - just enough that she could lift it up and slip the device through. She sat the screwdriver aside, grabbed the bomb, and jammed a bobby pin into a tiny hole on the bottom, priming it. She lifted the grate and peered through. She recognized Jordan Clark and Leni Standish, one a lunk head and the other clinically braindead.

The bomb began to heat up in her hand. Once she dropped it, it would flash and expel a choking chemical agent designed to send the libidios of anyone who inhaled it into overdrive, thus reducing them to creatures of concupiscence whose inhabitions would be completely wiped clean. Ha. Payback, how sweet thou art!

She and Lester had approximately one and one half minute to -

The bomb's plastic coating was suddenly blistering, and searing pain shot up Lisa's arm. She started to cry out, but her voice turned to a hacking cough when a jet of dense musk shot out and broke across her face. The device dropped from her hand and fell through the gap. For a moment, it tumbled end over end, then it hit the floor and skidded out of sight. Leni squealed and metal scraped against tile as someone presumably jumped to their feet.

Lisa let the grate fall back into place and crawled frantically backwards to escape the cloud of smoke filling the vent. She bumped into Lester and started to yell for him to move, but the mist invaded her lungs and she coughed so hard her head throbbed.

Dear God.

She breathed it in. SHE BREATHED IT IN!

How could this have happened?

She turned her face away from the fog and squeezed her eyes closed. The membrane in her nose and throat burned as though she had inhaled fire itself, and her soft, vulnerable orbs stung so badly she would have cried had her tear ducts been able to produce sufficient lubrication. Lester hacked like an elderly smoker on his deathbed and withdrew, allowing Lisa to back up, At the junction, he stretched out on his stomach and shook like a dying fish, and Lisa pressed her hand to her fevered forehead. She was already beginning to feel woozy and drunk and her nipples...God in heaven, her nipples were stiffening.

A terrible cramp hit her and she cried out. She wrapped her arms around herself and gasped for air. The pain intensified, becoming agony, and molten lead seemed to course through her veins, turning everything it touched to clumps of lava-like goop. A grimace flickered across her sweaty face, and the knot in her middle wound tighter and tighter until she could barely breathe.

Lester got to his hands and knees, head hung, back heaving. "Fucking idiot," he panted, his pretentious tone gone, replaced by worry, "what was that shit?"

"Nothing," Lisa said through clenched teeth. "We have to go."

"What -?"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO!"

Her voice echoed through the ducts like thunder. Lester favored her sourly over his shoulder, then shook his head and started to crawl. Lisa fell in behind him, and after a while, she realized something.

Her brother…

...had a nice butt.

* * *

_You ever seem to have one of those days_

_Where it just seems like everybody's gettin' on your case?_

_From your teacher all the way down to your best girlfriend?_

_Well, ya know, I used to have 'em just about all the time_

_But I found a way to get out of 'em_

_Let me tell you about it_

Sam leaned to see around the bank of lockers, then drew back when Principal Wilson strode out of the office and went into the teacher's lounge. Taking a deep breath (Gerannimo!) she dashed across the hall and ducked into an alcove. Luna stayed where she was, frozen, and Sam waved her on. Luna hesitated, then took a dainty step forward and craned her neck to see down the corridor.

Nothing.

She started across, but Principal Wilson walked out of the teacher's lounge. Sam's heart rocketed into her throat, and she frantically motioned Luna back. Luna spun on her heels and scrambled to the safety of cover. Principal Wilson opened the main door, leaned out, and looked around as if in search of something. He let the door fall closed, then went back into the office. Luna, bent at the knees and hugging herself, looked at Sam, and Sam gave a quick nod. Luna stood up straight, took a deep breath, and darted out from behind the locker. She flattened herself against the wall next to Sam, and Sam playfully nudged her ribs. "Kinda fun, huh?"

Luna shook her head. "No...it's not."

_Sitting in the classroom, thinking it's a drag_

_Listening to the teacher rap, just ain't my bag_

_The noon bells rings, you know that's my cue_

_I'm gonna meet the boys on floor number two_

Sam hunched over and ran up the hall, keeping tight to the lockers. She was fully exposed, and if Principal Wilson were to walk out of the office again, he would see her.

A big trash can sat outside the double doors leading to the auditorium. Sam reached it and dropped to one knee. Luna knelt beside her, hung her head, and fought to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed like spring rosebuds and a few strands of hair had come loose from her headband, giving her a sullied and soiled appearance that made Sam feel...funny.

Sam turned her attention to the hall ahead. Ten feet further on, the itl branched off. The women's room was to the right, situated between the nurse's office and the art room. "We just gotta get there," Sam said and nodded to the T-shaped junction, "then we're in business."

"What if Principal Wilson sees us?" Luna worried.

Honestly, Sam didn't have an answer for that. She told Jordan to tell Principal Douchebag that she and Luna went to use the bathroom if he asked. Jordan said that was a dumb idea and though it needled Sam, she was right. It _was _dumb. Sam had this thing about not thinking ahead. She just wanted her cigarette and that was it. She'd cross all those other bridges if, and when, she came to them.

"Well," Sam said and glanced at her new friend, "that's when we run like hell."

Luna gulped.

_Smokin' in the boys' room_

_Smokin' in the boys' room_

_Now, teacher, don't you fill me up with your rules_

_But everybody knows that smokin' ain't allowed in school_

Sam pushed away from the trash can and ran down the hall. She slid, turned right, and looked back just as Luna stumbled and went to her knees. Sam's heart sank, and she went back and helped her to her feet. "Come on," she whispered.

The bathroom door was to the left, marked by a little placard reading WOMEN. Sam pushed it open and went inside. As soon as Luna was in, she closed it behind her and leaned against it, her face red and her tiny chest expanding and contracting. "Now that was fun," Sam said. For the first time all day, she felt good, from the pleasant pounding of her heart to the adrenaline pumping through her veins; it was like being alive after being dead or something.

She took her cigarettes from her pocket, slipped one out, and plopped it into her mouth. She lit it, and inhaled deeply. A heady rush of good will came over her, and she threw her head back like a woman in the throes of orgasm. "Ahhh, mama, that's the stuff." She perched on the edge of the sink top and glanced at Luna, still pressed to the door. "C'mon, Lune," she said and patted the spot next to her.

Luna looked conflicted.

"I won't bite, I promise."

Seeming to make up her mind, Luna came over and dug her cigarettes out of her purse. She lit one and took a drag. "Huh?" Sam asked. "Huh?"

"That's a lot better," Luna grinned.

"Told you," Sam said. "Nothing beats those detention blues like a little nick-o-teen." She held the filter between her index and middle finger and twirled it so that the smoke made a little corkscrew. "Speaking of detention," she said, "what are _you _in for? I thought you were Miss Goody Two Shoes."

Luna leaned against the wall catercorner to Sam. "I got caught letting Leni cheat off my math test," she said.

"Ah. So a misdemeanor." Sam took a drag. "Makes sense. Why'd you do it?"

A warm cloud of smoke filled the air like a restless spirit. Through the haze, Luna held her cigarette up and stared thoughtfully at the filter. "Because she needed me to. She's…" she trailed off, a pained expression crossing her face. "Well, you've seen how she is."

Obviously. You'd have to be as dumb as Leni to not notice how dumb Leni was. "You guys are, like, friends or something?" Sam asked.

"Cousins," Luna said.

Huh. 'Really?" Sam asked incredulously.

Luna nodded. "Our moms are sisters."

For some reason, that kind of surprised Sam.

"Leni's failing hard and her parents aren't happy with her," Luna said. "It's really stressing her out and my mom asked me to help her because I get As." She took a puff and let it out in a long, bluish plume. "Mom acts like that should make me a teacher or something. I tried, but…" she shrugged. "You can't really teach Leni, so I just...let her cheat off me."

Awkward silence crashed down between them. "I'm sorry," Sam said. "Like, about you being stressed out and stuff."

"It's no big deal," Luna said with a hint of resignation. She sounded like she had grudgingly come to terms with her fate but would start to bleed if the fragile scab were pulled from the wound. "I'm not really all that worried about getting caught. I just feel bad for Leni."

"Does she have something wrong with her?" Sam asked. "Like...is she retarded?"

Luna shook her head. "No, she's just...Leni."

Was that supposed to explain things?

Changing the subject, Sam said, "So you don't care about getting in trouble, huh? Starting to chafe from the good girl act?"

Luna opened her mouth, then closed it again and mulled over Sam's question. Her dark eyes sparkled in the overhead light and Sam's stomach churned. "Eh...I just don't care anymore," she said at length. "Worrying about grades and stuff gets to be such a drag." She uttered a self-conscious laugh and ducked her head. "I don't wanna be like you, though. No offense."

A fist crashed into Sam's stomach. "Me? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," Luna said quickly, "I just, you know, don't wanna beat people up, skip school, and talk back. Like...I don't want to do a 180 or anything, I'm just...tired of it."

Sam brought the filter to her hips and drew the smoke into her lungs. _I don't wanna be like you. _Like being her was some terrible affliction. So what she was rude, crass disrespectful, loud, abrasive, headstrong, stupid, violent, obnoxious, irritating, and the most awful person in school? S-So what?

Ash dropped onto her knee, and she realized she had been staring into space for at least a minute. She shook her head and took another hit. "You know, sometimes -"

The door opened and Principal Wilson stepped in.


	5. Chapter 5

Lisa climbed out of the vent and immediately went to her knees. Lester bent over a desk and sucked great gulps of air, whether from the long journey back or the effects of the chemical she couldn't say. Likely a little of both. Or a lot of both, given his corpulent form.

They were in an empty chemistry lab on the southwest side of the building, far from the front office and the detention room. Mid-afternoon sunlight drenched the room and strung Lisa's gloom-adjusted eyes. The thirsty green-brown foliage beyond the pane swayed back and forth in the warm September wind and sent shadows racing across the hardwood floor. Lisa pushed herself to her feet and steadied herself, but when she tried to take a step, her knees turned to jelly and she started to fall. She shot out her arms and doubled over the desk next to Lester. She was acutely aware of her shirt riding up her back to reveal a pallid band of flab; the cool air against her skin was both exhilarating and painful. She was flushed head to to with fever, her heart slammed, and every time her thighs rubbed together, her heart skipped a long, staggering beat. She could feel the fullness of her lust-swollen sex and the rigid outline of her nipples brushing against the inside of her bra, and it horrified her...whilst at the same time exciting her.

"Tell me what that shit was," Lester said through his teeth, "or so help me God, Lisa…"

She brushed her dripping bangs from her face and adjusted her glasses. She imagined she could smell Lester's masculine scent, like a bitch in heat sniffing the lingering odor of a potential mate, and revulsion rose like bile in her throat.

"Lisa?"

"It's nothing," she said. If they could make it home, she could start on an antidote. God in heaven, though, they didn't have the time. The heat between her legs mounted with each passing second and the bare closeness of her own brother was beginning to impact her.

She pushed away from the table, then yelped in surprise when Lester grabbed her wrist and twisted. His hazy eyes stared out from a wet, scarlet face and his lips curled over his crooked, yellow teeth in a dangerous sneer. Her eyes went to the front of his pants and her breath caught. His erection made a veritable tent in the fabric, long, thick, and so enchantingly beautiful that Lisa's throat closed. "What the fuck was it? What's happening to us?"

"Lester, you're hurting me -"

She tried to pull away, but he flashed and pulled her inadvertently to him. Her body molded perfectly to his, and his erection smooshed against her stomach, knocking a shocked gasp from both of them. The fire in his eyes wavered and his grip on her wrist loosened. She could easily break away from him, but she didn't want to.

Their eyes met and the queerest mix of horror, arousal, shame, and longing overcame her. She willed herself to escape, but her smoldering body refused to obey her brain's frenzied commands. Lester's pupils dilated as he, presumably, grappled with the same conflicting emotions, and his eyes darted from hers to her lips and back again.

God help her, she hoped he kissed her.

He released her wrist, and his hands went stiffly to her hips as if manipulated by some cruel cosmic puppetmaster. The warm weight of his touch sent Lisa's heart racing and her palms flattened against his chest of their own accord. They gazed into each other's eyes, then, drawn together by forces beyond their control, indeed their very will, their lips touched. Lester's tongue darted out, and Lisa flicked it with hers.

Taking her face needily in his hands, Lester deepened the kiss, his tongue lashing hers with clumsy and inexpert gusto. Lisa swirled hers around it, her nails digging into the wool of his vest. His fingers threaded in his hair, and the kiss took on a desperate, almost violent, character; their tongues wrestled for dominance like two slime-slathered worms and they stumbled back in a tangle of limbs, Lisa's butt connecting with the table. She sat and wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels bracing against his butt, and Lester's palms ran over her back, pushing her shirt up and grazing her skin. She could feel his throbbing erection begging for release, and when his hips began to rock mindlessly against hers, she gasped into his mouth.

A small, lucid part of her brain screamed at her to stop, for the love of God, but she was consumed, inflamed, no longer in control of her faculties. The tiny spark of reason watched in horror, immobilized, as Lester pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it away; watched her reach behind her back and undo her bra; cringed at the way his soft, supple hands fumblingly kneaded her aching nipples. The sinful taste of his mouth violated her senses, bringing tears of shame and self-loathing to her eyes, but she couldn't stop kissing him, each hungry stroke of his tongue against hers stoking the flames in her loins.

She didn't know whether he pulled her shorts down or she did, but she dutifully lifted her butt from the table to allow him access. He pulled them down her legs and over her ankles. Her flesh was white, pale, and doughy; the air felt so good on it that she moaned in the back of her throat. Heat rolled from between her thighs, and the sharp tang of her arousal filled the room like cloying and stomach-turning perfume. Lester pawed at the front of his pants, and his penis sprang free. It was far larger than she would have imagined.

And more delicious.

She parted her legs, and Lester jerked his hips. His penis roughly penetrated her birth canal, and a keen, skull-cracking pain filled her head. She hissed over her teeth and dug her nails into his back, wanting it to stop but drawing him deeper with her heels. Lester braced his hands on either side of her and began to thrust. The sensation of his penis straining against her vaginal walls, pushing her pelvic bones apart like a wishbone, was both terrible and wonderful, disgusting and elating.

Tears flowed down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to beg him to stop, but when she spoke, she said, "Faster...fuck me faster…"

* * *

"You're a rotten apple, Bender," Principal Wilson said as he lead her and Luna down the hallway. His grip on Sam's wrist was cold and steely but she refused to show how much it hurt. "And you, Loud, represent the most disappointing fall from grace of 1987. You can still claw your way back, but if you keep hanging out with trash Sam Bender, you're fucked."

Fuck you, Sam thought but did not have the energy to say. He was right, after all, she _was _trash. "It wasn't her fault," Sam mumbled. "I dragged her into it, you should let her go."

The old man laughed. "It doesn't work that way. She needs to learn now while she still has a chance. Unlike you."

_Unlike you. _

Yeah...she was a lost cause, wasn't she? She was a fuck-up and hurt people even when she didn't mean to. Isn't that the very definition of a fuck up? The worst _kind _of fuck up? A fuck up who fucks up intentionally is one thing, but an accidental fuck up...well, those are the most dangerous.

They reached a door and Principal Wilson unhanded Luna to open it. Sam briefly considered wrenching away and making a run for it, but the idea made her tired. What did Jordan and Maggie say? Just suck it up and take your lumps?

"You both are going to spend the rest of the day in here," he said.

Sam had only a minute to register that they were standing before the janitor's closet before he shoved them both in and slammed the door. Darkness redolent of mildew closed around her and something dry and stringy brushed her cheek, sending an electric jolt of fear down her spine.

The knob rattled. "You brought this on yourselves," Principal Wilson said, his voice muffled. "I'll be back in a few hours to let you out."

A few hours? A FEW HOURS? Sam's heart slammed and she tried the handle even though she knew what she would find.

Locked.

"You can't leave us in here!" she cried.

Nothing.

She pounded the door with her fist so hard it shook in its frame. "Wilson, you bastard!" She turned and put her hands on her hips, her shoulders rising and falling. In the faint light showing around the jamb, Luna leaned against the wall, threw her head back, and let out a long-suffering sigh that twisted in Sam's guts like a knife. Did Luna mean it as an accusation? Because it sure as shit felt like one.

Sighing, Sam started to pace, but bumped into a shelf and bounced back, hitting the wall. Goddamn it, guess I'll just stand here. She crossed her arms and took a deep breath, the scent of mold and cleaning chemicals assaulting her nose. Luna slid down the wall like a bead of rain and sat, and a moment later, Sam did the same, her legs folding to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on. She didn't know she was going to speak until she heard the sound of her own voice. "I'm sorry."

Luna crossed her arms on top of her knees and stared into the semi-darkness. "It's not your fault," she said. "I could have said no."

"You did," Sam said, "remember? I pressured you into coming." She frowned. "I'm always fucking shit up."

Luna's clothes rustled as she shifted uncomfortably. "Well...I really don't know you, but you seem okay."

"Yeah," Sam said bitterly, "so okay you said you don't want to be me."

An awkward moment passed. "I-I didn't mean it like that. It's just…"

"Sometimes I don't want to be me either," Sam said, surprising herself. It was true, though, one of those nasty little facts of life that she carefully hid behind a facade of flippant irrelevance. Her heart was like a closet stuffed so full of castoff junk and dark secrets that if she opened it even a fraction of an inch, everything would come spilling out in a black avalanche of death. Inside her chest, that load shifted, and she realized she was dangerously close to letting it all out.

Luna watched her with soft concern, a bar of dusty light from the hall lying across her delicate features. "My dad left me, my mom's a drunk who doesn't give a shit about me, and sometimes…" she cut herself off. She was getting too close to the center of her being, the sickly, beating heart of who she was, and she couldn't go there. She could never go there.

"What?" Luna asked softly.

Sam swallowed a lump of ice in her throat and shook her head. "It's nothing." She could feel tears beginning to well behind her eyes and blinked them away. Luna's hand fell on her shoulder, and Sam looked away so that Luna wouldn't see the emotion in her face.

"I really didn't mean it like that," Luna said earnestly, "you seem great, I just meant...I-I don't know." The final part came as an exasperated admission. 'It's like, I don't even know who I am sometimes. I've spent my entire life focusing on my grades so I can go to a good college, but I don't know what to do after that. I don't even know what I want to do with my life and...that's scary. Senior year is staring me in the face and I...I'm not ready."

She hugged her knees like a girl cuddling a teddy bear for strength, and the spot where her hand had been tingled.

_Senior year is staring me in the face. _

A steely hand closed around Sam's chest and squeezed. The proximity of graduation...and the hazy, ill-defined "real world" beyond...was not lost on her. It was yet another one of those things she didn't like to think about, but sometimes she still did anyway. She likened herself to a skydiver without a parachute. The hard ground was rushing up to meet her, and the only thing she could do was close her eyes and hope that through some freak accident, she survived the impact. In a year and a half, she would pass from the safe harbor of high school and sail into the uncharted squall of adulthood, where her compass, never the best, would not work, and no one could help her if she capsized.

One thing was for certain: She wasn't going to college. She'd get a job, make minimum wage, and live in a trailer like the trash she was. In forty years, if she was lucky, her smoking would catch up with her and death would free her.

"I know who I am," she said. The hollow quality of her voice disturbed her and she swallowed again. "I'm a fuck-up, My grades suck, my brain sucks, my attitude sucks..._I _suck."

When Luna's palm gently touched the back of her hand, Sam looked up. In the dusky light, Luna wore a frown so deep and raw that it cut Sam like the edge of blade and her big, brown eyes flickered with something akin to sympathy. "You don't suck." she said.

"Yes I do," Sam urged. "That's why I got so mad at Lisa yesterday. She called me dumb and she was right. I _am _dumb." She lifted one hand to indicate their surroundings. "We wouldn't be in here if I wasn't."

"You might be impulsive," Luna allowed, "and kind of stubborn, and a _little _combative, but that doesn't mean you suck. In fact, those are really good qualities to have."

Sam laughed out loud.

"Hey, I'm serious," Luna said, "maybe not so much impulsive, but...better that than overcautious, I guess. I'm overcautious and look at me."

Oh, Sam was. With her pert, upturned nose, freckles, muddled eyes, and full lips, Luna was…

...kind of hot.

Sam blinked in surprise. Hot? Ew, grody, Luna was a girl and that was gay.

It was also true.

Sam's eyes wandered down the front of Luna's blouse. She couldn't see very well in the ashen gloom, but she could vividly picture the swell of her tiny breasts. She flashed back to the detention room, Luna's toned yet silken legs crossed at the knee, her purple socks molding to their shape like a second skin, and her throat went dry. Suddenly, she could smell Luna's natural scent, clean and sweet. Luna's hand still rested on hers, warm and soft, and Sam's stomach flipped.

Jesus, really? Was she...into a chick?

She tried to speak, but no words would form. She couldn't even remember what they were talking about. Oh, right, overcautious. "You look fine," Sam croaked.

"I'm not," she said, "I'm an undecided mess. But those traits are good. Like, you can't get rich and famous without being stubborn and combative."

"Me? Rich and famous? As if."

"You never know," Luna said. She brushed her thumb over Sam's knuckles, and Sam's heart sputtered. She looked at Luna's face, and Luna offered a beautiful smile that curled up at the corners like devil horns. Was it her imagination, or was that hunger in Luna's eyes?

Sam's heartbeat sped up and she swiped her tongue across her sandpaper lips. "Maybe," she said.

_Maybe._

* * *

Maggie pinched the joint between her thumb and forefinger and stared into the swirling smoke. To her right, Leni nibbled her bottom lip and gazed into space, and across from her, Jordan watched with keen anticipation, waiting for the forward pass. "I don't like feeling this way," Maggie admitted. "Like...I wanna be happy and like everyone else, but I'm not." She took a hit and held it until her lungs burst, then let it out with a cough. "Sometimes I feel locked in my own head and I see everyone...being normal and I almost hate them."

They were sitting in the middle of the floor in a rough semi-circle. A light haze, weed mingled with that strange musk, choked the air. After the...whatever it was...fell out of the vents, they tried to leave, but the door was locked from the outside. The windows were nailed shut but Jordan managed to get the transom over one of them open. The bomb had stopped gushing smoke by that point, and they did their best to wave the mist out of the room.

None of them were brave enough to approach the device at first, then Jordan, puffed up with false courage, broke from the pack and knelt beside it, tense and ready to spring back at the first sign of trouble. "Melted plastic," she said.

Someone's idea of a prank, Maggie figured. Kids were always doing dumb shit at RCHS. Last year, someone ran a Confederate flag up the flagpole out front, and before that someone else broke in after hours, sprayed the hallway floors with water, then turned down the temperature until they froze.

"I'm kind of, like, the same way," Leni said to her lap. "I don't hate people but I just get sad."

Maggie and Leni were a lot alike, Maggie thought. She, Maggie, was hindered by her intelligence, Leni by her _lack _of intelligence. Her entire life, Maggie had felt different. She played with toys as a kid, but she also liked to watch the news, and documentaries, and grown up movies. Her mother played Simon and Garfunkel and Neil Young records when she was growing up and told Maggie about the peace, love, and freedom of the sixties. Maggie listened, rapt, and longed to have been there herself. She loved sixties music and fashion and lived, she realized now, with her eyes firmly in the rearview mirror, in love with a time that no longer existed, enchanted by a world that once was but would never be again.

"It's a handicap," she said. She felt strange - and not just high on pot strange - and her throat bobbed with emotion. "It, like, socially crippled me." Her heart slammed against her breast and the musky enshrouding her went from repugnant to intoxicating. She struggled to think through the dense fog in her brain. Thoughts and images took shape, then drew elusively away. She chased them, however, because it was suddenly vital that she speak aloud what was in her heart. "I can't relate to kids my own age. I like things they don't. I'm like...a grown up but I'm not and I can't fit in with them either."

Jordan inhaled, then tossed her head back and blew out a plume of smoke.

"I'm like a fly caught between two window panes."

That was so melodramatic and mopey that it made Maggie laugh. It was true, though. She was out of touch and out of step. The adults thought she was a kid and the kids though she was strange. "It's not fun being isolated."

She looked at Leni. The blonde's eyes welled with sympathy and her lips quivered in commiseration. "I know," she said. "Everyone thinks I'm really dumb and treats me like a baby." She lowered her gaze. "I guess I kind of am.'

The pain in her face touched Maggie, and she put her hand on Leni's knee. Their eyes met, and Maggie's chest stirred. Leni took her hand in hers and twinned their fingers together, a smile touching her lips like the rim of the sun peeking through stormy clouds. Maggie's heart raced and before she could stop herself, she rocked forward on her knees. Leni did the same, and their lips brushed. Leni's tongue darted coyly out and Maggie met it with her own, the kiss light, tender, and right.

Jordan's eyes widened and her mouth fell open in a perfect O of surprise. Her stomach knotted and her face turned bright red; she was vaguely aware of her middle dampening, and hated herself for it.

Running her fingers through Maggie's hair, Leni crawled into her lap, knees planting on either side of Maggie's legs. Maggie stared up into Leni's eyes, and a tide of conflicting emotions washed through her. Leni lovingly stroked her cheek, a warm smile on her pink lips, and Maggie swallowed with a click. They tilted their heads to the side and kissed again, their noses skimming, tongues caressing, hearts beating against one another in the same, unsteady tempo. The taste of Leni's kiss filled Maggie's mouth, and Maggie grazed her hands up the slope of Leni's back, to her flexing shoulder blades. She pulled Leni's dress down one shoulder and Leni lightly scratched Magge's scalp, sending tendrils of shivering sensations down Maggie's spine.

Leni's dress slid down her shoulders, exposing her black bra. Maggie, lost in the throes of passion, clawed at the clasps. Leni broke the kiss, reached behind her, and undid them, letting the garment drop to her lap. Magge's eyes went to her small, perfectly formed breasts, her nipples pink and stiff. They were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

A wild gleam crept into Leni's eyes and she pounced Maggie, knocking her back against the floor. Leni thrust her butt into the air like a playful kitten and assailed Maggie's mouth with urgent kisses. Jordan gaped, then, coming alive, she got to her knees and crawled over, unable to control the lust suddenly upon her. Leni, perhaps sensing her, wiggled her butt teasingly back and forth. Where Jordan came from, that constituted a challenge. She hiked Leni's dress up, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, and yanked them down. Leni's dank heat broke across her face and the scent of her excitement triggered Jordan like a bull seeing red. Leni's folds were plump, pink, and moist with arousal, like a flower at the blushing apex of its bloom, and Jordan stared at it, transfixed.

Laying one hand on Leni's butt, she raised up on her knees and tentatively sank her index finger into the blonde's bubbling center. Leni gasped into Maggie's mouth, and Jordan explored her insides like a curious girl.

Maggie spread her legs, lifted her butt, and brushed her panties down, needing release worse than she had ever needed anything else in her life. Leni pinned her wrists above her head, aligned their sexes, and began to thrust. The slick kiss of her folds against Maggie's knocked a moan from Maggie's heaving chest and Maggie began to move her own hips in time. The wet friction sent her mind scattering and her body into convulsions. Jordan, naked from the waist down now, squatted over Leni and thrusted her bare crotch against Leni's butt. Leni's breasts jiggled with every forward drive of her hips and her eyes narrowed to exotic slits as her orgasm began to swell in her depths.

Throwing herself into Leni's center, Maggie cried out and shook with the force of her climax. She hooked her feet around Leni's and trembled, cummung harder than she ever had before, Leni's grunts and sighs urging her on.

From there, Maggie lost track of herself, her mind bobbing to the surface and then sinking back down again, flashes of sight and sound penetrating the smoke in her brain.

She pressed her lips to Leni's opening and drank the blonde's salty nectar straight from the source while Jordan knelt over Leni and kissed her lips.

She knelt and furiously rubbed Jordan's clit while Leni ate her from behind. She sat on Jordan's face and Leni on Jordan's crotch, and leaning into each other, they passionately kissed. Jordan mounted Leni and thrusted until she came while Maggie played with herself. Leni went down Jordan and Maggie stretched out beside them, sucking Jordan's kiss and playing with her tits. Leni and Jordan knelt in front of her and she fingered them simultaneously...in both holes.

This went on for what may have been hours or only minutes. When the mist in Maggie's brain parted, she lay in-between Leni and Jordan, her breasts quivering with her ragged breathing. All three of them were hot, naked, and covered in sweat, their combined smell thick in the air. Maggie stared up at the ceiling, strange tastes in her mouth and her lips, fingers, and thighs coated in sticky liquids both hers and otherwise.

"What the fuck just happened?" Jordan asked. There was a shell shocked quality to her voice, as though she had just watched the world come to a bloody, fire scorched end.

Maggie opened her mouth, but she had no answer.

Leni, on the other hand, did, and while she may not have spoken for Jordan, she spoke for Maggie 100 percent.

"I don't know...but I totally like it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Lyrics to _Lips Like Sugar _by Echo and the Bunnymen**

_She floats like a swan_

_Grace on the water_

_Lips like sugar_

Sam and Luna lay on their sides, their lips locked in a clumsy kiss and their hands drifting over each other's bodies. Luna's leg was bent on Sam's hip, and Sam's fingertips made light, gentle circles in her skin. Sam swirled her tongue around Luna's and slipped her hand beneath Luna's skirt. Her heat was incredible and Sam moaned at the feeling. Luna purred in the back of her throat and gave a body-wide shudder. Sam pulled away to catch her breath and Luna stared at her with sparkling, love drunk eyes.

"You're beautiful," Sam heard herself say. A laughed dislodged from her throat and she gave voice to it. She couldn't believe what she was doing...what she was saying...nor could she believe how good it felt.

Luna brushed the back of her hand over Sam's cheek, then kissed her again.

_Lips like sugar_

_Just when you think you've caught her_

_She glides across the water_

_She calls for you tonight_

_To share this moonlight_

Sam dragged Luna's underwear down to her knees and laid her hand on Luna's rippling stomach. Luna sucked Sam's bottom lip into her mouth and grinned, and Sam giggled with the unashamed abandon of a girl without a care in the world. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No," Luna said.

"You're pretty good at it."

Luna laughed, then hummed when Sam cupped her sex in her hand. Sam kissed her lips, the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Luna turned her head away and Sam trailed kisses along her neck. Her fingers traced and explored Luna's satiny lower lips. She slipped her finger between them, and Luna bucked against her like a woman in the electric chair.

_You'll flow down her river_

_She'll ask you and you'll give her_

_Lips like sugar_

_Sugar kisses_

Luna propped her legs in an M and Sam rested between them, her face hovering inches above her center. Luna's face blushed a deep shade of crimson and she sucked sips of air through parted lips. Lust muddled her eyes and her hips rocked insistently, begging for Sam's ministrations. Sam peppered kisses across her thighs, working her way to her prize. Luna's breathing became faster, more ragged, and when Sam curled her tongue around the pulsing nub of her clit, she drew a sharp gasp over her teeth.

_You'll flow down her river_

_But you'll never give her_

_Lips like sugar_

_Sugar kisses_

_Lips like sugar_

_Sugar kisses_

Luna wrapped her legs around Sam's hips and Sam braced herself on the floor. The soft, sloppy touch of her fevered pussy sent Sam reeling, and she paused for a moment to recover, so close to blowing her girl load that even the slightest motion would send her over the edge. Luna reached up and held Sam's cheek in her hand. Their eyes locked, and Sam felt the most obscene compulsion to say _I love you_.

Hanging her head, Sam thrusted, and Luna moaned, her heels digging into Sam's butt and pulling her closer. Sam set a steady pace, and together, she and Luna guided one another through the steps of a dance as old as time. Their wet cores made frenetic love, their lips fused, their tongues lashed, their fingers threaded. Sam lost herself to the girl below her, and even in the midst of her ardor, she realized something.

She was falling in love.

_She'll be my mirror_

_Reflect what I am_

_A loser and a winner_

_The king of Siam_

_And my Siamese twin_

Sam buried her face in the crook of Luna's neck and went faster, her jaw clenching as her end neared. She didn't want this moment to end but her body was going to cum and she couldn't stop it...didn't want to stop it. An orgasm is the most intensely intimate thing you can possibly share with someone, and though Sam wanted this to last forever, she wanted to give herself to Luna. "I'm close," Luna squeaked.

"Me too," Sam whispered.

"Cum with me."

Sam slammed her hips forward, and a bomb blast of pulsating heat detonated in her center. Luan let out a strangled moan and started to shake, and Sam wrapped her arms around Luna's frame and held her close as they came together.

_Lips like sugar_

_Sugar kisses_

_Lips like sugar_

_Sugar kisses_

Afterward, Sam cradled Luna in her arms and placed sleepy kisses on the back of her neck. The darkness was humid and heavy with their scent, and sweat trickled down Sam's face.

It was perfect.

"I didn't know I liked girls," Luna said.

"Neither did I," Sam said. "But...I like you." She faltered. "A lot."

"I like you a lot too," Luna said. She turned in Sam's arms, and they kissed.

"We better get dressed before Principal Asshole gets back," Sam said.

Luna pulled her underwear on, buttoned her blouse, and smoothed the front of her skirt while Sam hurriedly yanked her pants and underwear on. She had just tied her shoes when, as if on cue, the door opened and light flooded hers and Luna's love nest. "Alright, c'mon," Principal Wilson said.

Sam and Luna exchanged a glance.

"I started feeling bad about locking you in there," Principal Wilson explained as he lead them back to the detention room. "Plus, it's probably against the law. God forbid you discipline a kid these days."

Behind his back, Sam and Luna held hands.

When the reached the detention room, Principal Wilson produced a keyring and unlocked the handle. He opened the door. "Have you -?"

His voice cut off.

Maggie, Leni, and Jordan lay in a line, all naked. Jordan sat up, gasped, and tried to cover herself, and Maggie stiffened. The stench of musk, pot, and something else that Sam couldn't name flowed over them, and her nose pinched.

"You disgusting people," Principal Wilson said sourly. "What have you done?"

"We can explain," Maggie said.

The old man sighed and stepped aside. "Get dressed and get the hell out of my school."

Outside, Leni, Jordan, Maggie, Luna, and Sam stood in a group. They had learned a lot about each other over the past few hours and Sam, for one, felt closer to them. "You think our friendship will last come Monday?" she asked.

Leni took Maggie's hand, and a ghost of a smile touched Maggie's lips. "Totally," Leni said.

"Uhhh...probably not," Jordan said. She hugged herself and looked ashamed. "I just...um...yeah, you dykes are on your own." She turned and walked away.

After bidding each other farewell for what might be the only time, they went their separate ways, Jordan alone, Maggie with Leni, and Luna with Sam. As they walked along the tree lined street, quiet middle class houses watching them with bigoted suspicion, Sam's mind worked. "This will last, right?" she asked anxiously, "us?"

Luna squeezed her hand. "Of course it will."

Sam smiled. She hoped it did.

And of any relationship forged that day, it stood the best chance...for neither Sam nor Luna inhaled Lisa's gas.

They came together all on their own.

* * *

Lisa Thompson stared ashamedly down at her feet as she and Lester shuffled home through the amber late afternoon light. Lester hugged himself tightly and from the bloodless hue of his face, he looked like he was going to be sick. Lisa felt dirty...so dirty...as as soon as they got through the door, she was going to take a shower and scrub herself with steel wool.

She glanced at her brother, then away. "Lester, I ap -"

"Shut up," he snapped. "Just shut up. You've done enough damage for one day."

Hot tears flooded Lisa's eyes and her lips began to tremble. "I'm sorry," she said, then broke down crying. Lester watched her from the corner of his eye, and the hatred on his face slowly drained away. He reached out, hesitated, and patted her shoulder.

"There, there," he said stiffly. "Mistakes happen...rarely of this magnitude...and rarely the kind that will haunt you for the rest of your life...but they do happen."

Lisa cried harder.

He was right.

This mistake _did _haunt her for the rest of her life.


End file.
